


Bruised

by LERoyal



Category: General Hospital
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-02 15:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16307513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LERoyal/pseuds/LERoyal
Summary: A flying gallop through the Tinder AU that no one asked for."Heck yes, she’d swipe right for Parker Forsyth. It’s a revelation had alone in the quiet of lunch hour, but it feels significant."Pristina.Mentions of past abuse.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not the MTK sequel. Writing what I can when I can. If you enjoy my work please support my debut novel Blood Echo, releasing with @ninestarpress (Twitter) December 2018.  
> Part 2 will be uploaded next week.

“Yeah, but they met on Tinder.” Molly rolls her eyes, and Kristina just studies the couple two booths over from where they’re sitting.

“They’re happy so… It worked for them.” Sam shrugs.

“Kristina totally needs to get on Tinder.”

The sound of her name pulls her back to the conversation, back to lunch with her siblings, and Molly’s barely hidden smirk. “I mean you’ve been single since… for years.” The glass which she so precariously walks on shimmers, threatening to shatter under the weight of _that_. Sam goes to grab her hand and she pulls it away to pick up her coffee, because she doesn’t need her pity.

“I’m busy with work, PERKs is doing better than ever, thanks to yours truly.” Her head is held high, all of her signature self-confidence in her tone, yet inside, it’s hollow, as empty as it has been for the last two years.

“I’m still amazed with how you’ve taken to everything, Kris. Who would have thought you’d be a Wall Street whiz?” Sam is smiling at her, that knowing still lingering in her eyes, and Kristina works hard not to snap, because she understands that her sister is just trying to be kind.

“Yeah, amazing.”, Molly echoes, “But seriously, isn’t it time to you know…” She makes a motion with her hands that makes Kristina cringe, “Get back on the horse?”

“I hate horses.” She wishes they would just drop it, the subject too close, too uncomfortable, and she’s so brilliantly numb lately that she’s loathe to have it end.

“Fine.” Molly huffs, eyes dancing one more time to Kristina’s, good intent softening her tone. “You can’t be alone forever, just at least think about it okay? It’s easy, no expectations, everyone on Tinder understands what they’re there for… no strings.”

“Unless you’re those two.” Sam pipes up, helpfully derailing the conversation before the nuclear explosion Kristina can feel building in her chest detonates all over Molly, who she _knows_ is only trying to help her.

***

The apartment is too quiet when she gets home, even with the rush of town right outside the window, even with the bright lights of New York City only a thirty minute train ride away. Kristina kicks off her boots and goes immediately to the remote, fingers moving in a practiced pattern to switch on the TV and tune into the right station.

With the blur of voices, another rerun of The Block playing in the background as is her nightly ritual, she opens her laptop and loses herself in the world of stocks once more. This kind of risk she can take. Being a broker is a series of calculated gambles, she understands the rules, accepts the stakes, and somehow, she’s good enough at it that she surprised even herself when she flunked out of business school and started interning at her Father’s company.

A familiar voice on the TV has her eyes flashing up, busy watching the scene she has seen at least three times before. Ashley has always been her favorite character, and after the newspaper scandal a few years back about Parker Forsyth, the actress who plays her, Kristina somehow enjoys her more.

The timer on her laptop dings, guiltily she looks back to the smaller screen and scrambles to shift her stocks before the market closes.

***

“Dude, you need to get a life, or get laid, or something.” It’s whispered and bitter, and Kristina hears it all the same as the guy who sits across the office from her brushes by. Another weekly meeting, and her name is once again at the top of the board, her gains more than double that of her peer who came in second.

Riding the train home, she tries not to let it sting, tries to live in the persona she presents to the rest of the world - bitchy, confident, unaffected, but she just feels tired. Swiping her phone to light up the screen, ignoring a text from her father asking her out to lunch tomorrow, she scrolls mindlessly through the app store. It would be easy to go to the lunch, to tell him about her coworker and his mouth, but that’s not who she wants to be at PERKs. Finally, this is something that’s _hers_ , something that she has earned, and she loves that more than she loathes the looks, the whispers, that she’s getting the best portfolios or help from Daddy to achieve what she does.

Her thumb is hovering over the Tinder app, the little icon having appeared in this weeks charts of most popular. She stabs it, waiting impatient as it downloads, telling herself it couldn’t hurt just to look, ignoring the panic that flutters, hot, dangerous, in her chest.

The train rattles along as she inputs her information, choosing a profile picture taken last summer, her long hair curled loose around her face, dark sunglasses covering her eyes, and then she’s being bombarded. Pictures appear, one after the other, and once she gets the hang of swiping, it’s actually kind of fun, cathartic. _Pretty boy with a devious smile_ , swipe left, _older guy in a suit_ , left again… and on she goes. It startles her when the first female picture appears, but she’s being brave. Just entertaining this is a huge step forward she had never meant to make, and although she swipes left on _Jane, NYC_ , she isn’t displeased as more women’s faces flash across her screen.

***

“Want a donut?” Val appears next to her, making her jump, her knees bumping her desk.

“What… No, thanks.” Kristina tears her eyes away from her screen, fixing on a smile.

“Fine, I’ll be fat alone.” The joke twinkles in Val’s eyes, and she hangs on just a little too long before disappearing back to her own desk, box of donuts in tow. Thinking back to the previous night, gleefully swiping left though enjoying the ability to peruse, to choose men, women - whoever, Kristina feels color touch her cheeks and ducks her head back down to work.  

Lunch is a slightly less miserable affair than usual. Most of the office has left to go to Palio’s, and though she stayed behind saying she has to catch up on a few portfolios, _yeah, right,_ Kristina is enjoying the quiet. The computers hum, the light changes as the projector flicks, numbers climbing and falling all across Wall Street. Swiping left, she takes a big swig of coffee, almost spitting it back out as she stares down at the picture on her screen.

Parker Forsyth smiles back, in a shot far too professional looking for the seedy underbelly of the app world that is Tinder.

_Parker, NYC_ , the app proclaims.

“Yeah, sure.” She mutters to herself, amusement dancing in her eyes as for the first time, she swipes right.

_Heck yes she’d swipe right for Parker Forsyth._ It’s a revelation had alone in the quiet of lunch hour, but it feels significant.  

***

**Parker:** Hello. 

Kristina snickers as she looks down at her phone, engulfed in 5 o’clock New York as she steps up onto the train without thinking.

**Kristina:** Hi, nice profile pic.

She taps send and navigates her way to a seat. Her phone buzzes again, faster than she expected.

**Parker:** Thanks, yours too. Why the sunglasses though? Don’t want to be recognized?

**Kristina:** It was summer. Why the fake profile?

Watching the outskirts of the city fly past, Kristina wonders why she is wasting her time. She’s seen an episode or two of that MTV show, Bassfish, or whatever it’s called.

**Parker:** What makes you believe this is fake? 

Kristina rolls her eyes. 

**Kristina:** Because Parker Forsyth is fucking hot, and famous. What the hell would she be doing on Tinder?

She’s about to exit the app, already bored, when her phone buzzes again.

**Parker:** Language.

**Parker:** And you’re beautiful from the nose down, and apparently quite cynical and suspicious. What’s a girl like you doing on Tinder?  

It makes her smile, and it absolutely shouldn’t. This could be anyone, _anyone_ , she reminds herself, even as she’s writing out a reply.  

**Kristina:** Fine, I’ll play along. Nice to meet you ‘Parker’, I’m Kristina, and I’m on Tinder mostly because I was bored and wanted to see what all the fuss is about. How about you? Shortage of eligible bachelors in L.A, where you should be right now, since you’re supposed to live there.  

Maybe she’s being rude, but _who cares_ . This girl, _god she’s hopes Tinder Parker is a girl_ , is crazy and a liar.

Maybe she has gone too far, because even after the train exits the tunnel and she climbs down onto the platform to start the short walk back to her apartment, Tinder Parker still hasn’t replied. 

*** 

Kristina is working on her second cup of coffee, the lights in the office still dim overhead, no one else having arrived yet. When her phone vibrates, loud in the quiet of the room, she grabs it without much thought, still watching the market settle after opening. 

**Parker:** Sorry, had a thing last night. I do live in L.A, in NYC until tonight. My family live here. How about you?

**Kristina:** I’m not telling you where I live, creep. 

Realizing that maybe two cups is not deep enough for polite company, she drains her mug and goes to procure a third. When she sits back down at her desk, a reply awaits.

**Parker:** Mature. How about what you do? You know what I do, or did. Since The Block ended, it’s mostly just auditions and the like for me right now.

Why was this woman, _please be a woman_ , pushing this so hard? Taking another big swallow, burning her mouth, Kristina replies anyway.  

**Kristina:** I’m a stockbroker, I work at the premier investment office in New York.  

The reply comes fast. 

**Parker:** So smart and cynical. Nice.

It makes Kristina smile, and she’s about to tap out a reply when another message comes through.

**Parker:** Hope you win some great bets today. I have to run, make up and a meeting at 11 o’clock. Talk later? 

And just like that, Kristina feels herself rattle. Panic swells in her chest at the familiarity, at making any kind of plans with this fake, like any of this is real or even matters.

**Kristina:** There’s more to it than betting, a lot more. And, maybe.

***

She’s almost asleep when her phone buzzes loud against her nightstand, two glasses of red wine and a knot of frustration in her chest that she can’t quite explain making her tired. 

**Parker:** Things I’ll miss about New York.

Attached is a picture of a huge slice of pizza in a paper carton, the hand holding it is pale, the nails perfectly manicured in a deep red that Kristina instantly likes. The background of the picture is just generic tile flooring that could be anywhere. 

**Kristina:** Is that a Joe O’s Slice?

**Parker:** The one and only. Jealous? 

Kristina sits up in bed. Suddenly the tiredness is a little less heavy.

**Kristina:** Maybe.

**Parker:** You and your maybes. So if you’re not just an educated gambler, what exactly does being a broker involve?

Reaching over and turning on the lamp, Kristina lets her fingers fly over her phone screen. Surprised by how much she enjoys explaining the ins and outs of what she does to someone who doesn’t know her. Someone who doesn’t assume she has achieved all she has through favors.

Tinder Parker is funny and surprisingly attentive, and when she shares a little more about her ‘life’, and claims she has to go because her red eye back to L.A is boarding, Kristina resists making any scathing comments about all the pretense.

*** 

It catches her by surprise, one rainy morning when she’s walking out the door and her phone buzzes in her purse.

**Parker:** Don’t forget an umbrella or something, the edge of that tropical storm is supposed to be over there today.

Her heart beats hard and she stabs the lock button, rushing back inside to get her umbrella that she had indeed forgotten. Pushing through bodies on the platform, and flat out elbowing her way onto the train, Kristina tries not to dissect it, not to think about Tinder Parker.

Somehow over the previous month, what had started as a joke has become a… _thing_.

Tinder Parker is a part of her life now. She wakes up to messages from her most mornings, and says goodnight to her last thing at night. The woman, _she is fairly sure of that much at least by now_ , asks about her day at work, and if she ate. Less and less the lonely hours in her apartment ware filled with watching Real Parker in reruns of The Block, and more with Tinder Parker and her messages. They share stories of now and hopes for the future, but never speak about the past, and the realization that none of it was real seems to be chasing Kristina that morning as the train speeds along.

Despite being late by her own standards, she’s still the first person in the office at her desk.

**Kristina:** Can I ask you one question, and you promise to tell the truth?

Luckily the reply comes quickly before she loses her nerve.

**Parker:** Sure, but I’m about to go do a demo scene for a new sitcom, so if I don’t reply I got called. 

Trying not to roll her eyes at the lies that she knows a deep and dangerous little part of her is beginning to maybe consider believing, she types her reply.

**Kristina:** What’s your name?

The office fills up around her, and the minute that it takes for a response to come through feels long, part of her acutely aware that this could change everything. Another part of her surprised to realize that she doesn’t want it to. Her phone buzzes and she picks it up with a deep breath.

**Parker:** Parker Elise Forsyth. They’re calling me. Talk later, honey. 

The endearment puts a flush on her cheeks that stays long after she sets down her phone.

***

Tinder Parker has been gone all day, and embarrassingly, Kristina sets about an exorcism of sorts. Their conversation in the morning, her realizations, prove that she can’t continue like this. She doesn’t want to give up whatever she has with Tinder Parker, but she can’t keep wondering. She googles and pretty much stalks Parker Forsyth - the _real_ Parker Forsyth, looking for any trace, any tiny hint, of _her_ Parker... _Tinder Parker_ , there.

She turns on an episode of Catfish, _for research_ she assures herself, barely making it past the first commercial break before she feels sick to her stomach and has to turn it off.

There’s no way the woman she’s talking to is really a semi-famous actress. Finally convincing herself she has the woman who she watches on TV and the woman who lights up her phone multiple times a day separated out, Kristina decides to put it to bed. She closes her Google search, finally feeling some sort of peace with it all,  just as her phone vibrates with a Tinder message.

**Parker:** Can I have your number? ‘Creeps’ as you say, keep harassing me on here, I’d really like to delete it if possible.

**Parker:** Actually, here’s mine. Please text me if you feel comfortable with that. If not I guess I’ll suffer.

Kristina’s heart leaps into her throat at the sight of the numbers. She recognizes the New York area code instantly and wonders if it’s a clue.

It’s strange to copy the digits into a text window, and type.

**Kristina:** Yeah, those creeps can really get you. I picked up one four months ago and she’s still hanging around. I feel your pain. 

The reply comes quickly.

**Unknown:** Thank you, honey. How was your day?

She taps out a response, sending it off then going back to Tinder, copying Parker’s profile picture, and hovering over the new contact in her cell. After a long pause, she types, _Parker_ as the name, adds the picture, and saves it. Thirty seconds later, the Tinder app is deleted from her phone.

***

Somehow, Tinder Parker worms her way impossibly deeper into her life, and there’s not a thing Kristina can do to make herself want it to stop. She’s charming, funny and she listens. They text for hours, for days, and never run out of things to say. It’s good, and she’s happy, and the last eight months have been the best of her life until she’s sitting at her desk one day and her phone rings.

“PERKs, this is Kristina.” Is her automatic response, her eyes still trained on the numbers on her screen, two high value bonds at stake in the next thirty seconds.

The line only rustles.

“Hello?”

Frustrated she jerks the phone away from her ear, a shockwave running through her body, wracking her guts until she wants to throw up right there at her desk.

**Parker: 00:21** Is displayed on the screen.

She ends the call without thinking, her breaths shallow, all the blood draining from her face.

A group of men across the office laugh, “Wow, Davis, you choked, the Birmingham Fund just missed the lowest buy in of the century.”

She’s lost, frozen, and then she’s running, because it’s real.

Somewhere over the last eight months Tinder Parker has become real for her, even if she isn’t real herself. This fake person is important to her, she cares about her, and it dawns on her fully that she doesn’t even know her name.

By the time she reaches the bathroom, there’s a text already waiting. She lowers the lid on the toilet, and sits down to read it.

**Parker:** Crap sorry, think I butt dialed you. 

Suddenly, this is all one more lie she can’t live with.

**Kristina:** Who are you, really?

**Parker:** Again? I thought we were past this, Krissie.

God she loves that nickname. The few times Parker has used it she’s felt warm, gratified like she can’t remember being in so long. The phone buzzes again.

**Parker:** What brought this on? Did you hear something when I called? I was just driving home from the store...

Convincing herself that it’s time, Kristina lets her fingers fly across the screen. 

**Kristina:** If you’re Parker Forsyth, then why do we never talk about anything real?

Apparently Parker is waiting for her response because the reply is almost instant.

**Parker:** Tell me what you want to know.  

Kristina digs down, somewhere dark and dirty, and awfully close to all of her own bruised and broken pieces, back to the core of it, the moments of her life when watching Ashley on The Block had saved her from being alone, from looking at her own failings. Back when she felt she had something horribly in common with the real Parker Forsyth.

**Kristina:** The real Parker was in the newspapers two years ago with two black eyes and a fractured skull and a wife that walked on a domestic abuse charge at the trial. If you’re Parker Forsyth why do we never talk about that?

The words that come back rock Kristina to her core.

**Parker:** Ex wife. Are you quite done? Am I not broken enough for you? Should I live forever in the shadow of that? Should I spill my guts to the woman on the phone who is frustratingly the best part of my day but also doesn’t believe I am who I say after almost nine months of near constant communication. 

Caught between disbelief that Tinder Parker is going to try to continue the facade and a sliver of doubt that crawls down her spine and settles in her stomach like lead, Kristina doesn’t reply.

***

The messages that come over the following days thaw increasingly, and become more and more apologetic and harder to ignore. Kristina doesn’t know why she does ignore them, or why she had to ruin everything. Tinder Parker was good, even if she wasn’t real. It was one piece of her life, untouched, untainted, not dirtied by _that_.

**Parker:** Was my answer not good enough either?

**Parker:** I just don’t understand what that has to do with anything.

**Parker:** I offered to video call you months ago and being the stubborn ass you are, you said no. I can’t believe we’re still going over this absolute denial you’re in.

**Parker:** Krissie?

**Parker:** I miss you.

It’s been a miserable eight days since she last spoke to Tinder Parker, and her world is empty again, colorless. She’s striding into the office after coffee with Sam and Molly, too many questions, comments about the weight she’s lost, how her love life is going, how she seemed happier until recently, when someone catches her elbow.

“Kristina, there’s a client in meeting room three for you. New investor, new money, asked for you personally.”

She barely thanks her coworker, exhausted. The big leaderboard still displays her name at the top this week, but her usual ridiculous margin has closed, and she hates Tinder Parker and she hates herself, for it all. She straightens her blazer and runs a hand through her hair. One deep breath resetts her, cools her down to polite business and slick charm, and then she opens the door.

Her jaw falls.

Parker Forsyth, _the real Parker Forsyth,_ is hovering by the window. A forest green dress and rich black cardigan hugs her perfect body, and a million realizations pelt Kristina. She’s _gay_ … bisexual at least, and Parker Forsyth, the real Parker Forsyth, has no idea she’s been having some kind of relationship with a fake version of her for almost a year now.

She needs to get her shit together, _fast_.

Dark eyes are studying her and the intensity is choking. Whether it’s conditioning or adrenaline that makes Kristina move forward, she doesn’t know.

“Miss Forsyth…” Her voice shakes and she takes a deep breath, “Kristina Davis, it’s a pleasure to meet you and to have you here at PERKs.”

Parker, the real Parker, is staring at her, and Kristina feels discomfort prickle across the back of her neck as her hand hangs, waiting to be taken, in the space between them.

“Krissie?”

It’s soft and shy and maybe a little shocked, and Kristina instantly just _knows_.

“Holy fuck, you’re real.”

It’s out before she can stop it, and Parker is still staring at her, all dark eyed intensity and Kristina is falling, crashing through realization after realization until she cant breathe.

Parker, the real Parker, who is standing right in front of her, looks like she’s choking. Their eyes meet, and something hot caught between mortification and vindication crawls down Kristina’s spine. Parker seems to recover first, politely clearing her throat, though she doesn’t take her hand.

“How old are you?”

It hits Kristina like a ton of bricks. The age difference hadn’t really registered with her - she’d never even believed Tinder Parker was _Parker_ Parker, but looking at the woman now, she finds she doesn’t mind that she’s older.

“I’ll be twenty-one in spring.”

She can see Parker doing the math, but all she can think about is how horrible she’d been, how demanding and callous she was about Parker and her ex-wife, and a situation that she understands now to have been very, very real.

“When you said stockbroker I just assumed…” Parker trails off, swallowing hard, and Kristina is frozen.

“I should… go.” Suddenly Parker is moving, springing into action and Kristina feels herself struggling to catch up, falling behind as the woman heads for the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude in your workplace, I just wanted… I don’t, know what I wanted.” A pause hangs pregnant between them, and Kristina’s heart is still stuck in her throat. She’s still a little starstruck because the real Parker Forsyth is standing in front of her, dark eyes blazing with something that looks a little like apology and a lot like desperation.

“Goodbye, Krissie.” Parker reaches for the door that Kristina doesn’t remember ever closing, and finally, something inside her flames to life.

“Parker, wait.” She steps forward, and they’re close, so suddenly, incredibly close. “I’m sorry…” The words fall out on an exhale, and she can breathe again. “For everything, for not believing you, and what I said, I just… _you’re real_.”

And she’s gorgeous, dark eyes and full lips. Kristina watches her lick them, and she can almost feel her deciding. Something softens in her eyes and Parker lets out a breath.

“I told you I wasn’t a creep.”

Realities collide in the best way, and bruised as she is, Kristina dares to hope.

“And I should have listened.”


	2. Two

“Does it bother you?” The question tumbles out and Parker’s cheeks flush, as she delicately constructs another perfect bite of salad onto her fork. Kristina can’t help but feel a little intimidated by her still.

“What?”

“The age gap… I mean, I know you knew before, I guess I’m just surprised.”

Dark eyes avoid hers and for a minute Kristina’s insecure, until she realizes that insecurity is entirely what Parker is experiencing too.

“It doesn’t bother me at all.”

The relief on the older woman’s face is obvious.

“Well, I’m glad. Hollywood tends to give you a bit of an age complex you know?” Parker laughs it off, but Kristina feels her frayed nerves, and she’s taken back for a moment to the woman in the newspapers, on Facebook, Twitter, her weakest moment paraded for all to see.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

It tumbles out before she can stop it, and she blushes furiously down into her own salad until she feels Parker’s foot bump hers under the table forcing her to look up. Her eyes are warm, and bright.

“Thank you.”

By the time they finish dessert, they’ve found their balance, and Kristina is amazed, amazed by this woman in front of her who is this perfect blend of _her_ Parker and real Parker. Slowly she’s assimilating them to be one and the same.

Parker helps her into her coat and opens the door for her as they leave the restaurant, and Kristina feels like she’s in a dream, floating.

“Guess you forgot your umbrella again, Miss Davis.”

The use of her name like that shocks her, something red hot sparking in her chest and spilling lower and lower. They’re standing in light rain outside the restaurant, pedestrians swerving around them as they study each other.

“Well my usual weather woman didn’t remind me this morning, Miss Forsyth.” She tries for playful but she sounds exactly as breathless as she feels, because this is Parker, _her_ Parker, her constant for the last nine months, and she’s here and she’s _real_.

Dark eyes flit down to her lips, and she’s trying to gather herself, her courage, and all her broken pieces, to lean forward and kiss her. When Parker speaks and it shatters.

“Can I give you a ride back to work, home? The train will be busy around this time.”

“I, well…” She stumbles over her reply, pulling out her phone, surprised that it’s almost four, and they’ve been at the restaurant for nearly two hours. “Home would be great, if you’re sure?”

Parker nods, and turns, grabbing her hand, then they’re walking. Pale fingers are soft,warm, and they’re not quite holding hands, but it makes Kristina’s heart pound all the same. She’s disappointed when they stop at Parker’s shiny black rental and she lets go.

“A girl could get used to this.” She manages to quip as the car door is opened and she sinks down into the leather interior.

“Is that so?” Parker’s voice is a tone lower, rough and darker than she’s ever heard it, and Kristina is breathless as the older woman bends to follow her down, reaching across her to pull on her seatbelt and click it into place, blonde hair tickling her cheek.

“Safety first.” Parker proclaims with a smug grin as she straightens up to close the door and head around to the drivers side.

Kristina is hot and breathless, and so much for safety because this woman is going to give her a heart attack.

***

She’s taking a sip of wine, laughter crinkling her eyes as she listens to Parker recounting a particularly funny mess up on the set of The Block, when it hits her. This woman is here in her home, her sanctuary where she permits so few. She tracked her down her at workplace. Her blood turns to ice in a second.

“How did you find me?”

The levity drops from the room, and to her credit, Parker takes the interruption in stride, though her worry over the plummeting atmosphere is etched on her face.

“You told me you worked for the best brokership in the City, and the spelling of your name isn’t exactly common. I Googled.”

Dark eyes are full of apology and it shouldn’t rattle Kristina like this, but _it does._ The sensation of being powerless, of being hunted and covetted and controlled, it crashes over her like a tidal wave, and she’s breathless and panicked, and terrified.

“Kristina.”

Parker touches the back on her hand, but she doesn’t grab or squeeze or try to hurt her. She doesn’t even try to hold on. Kristina stares at the fingers against her skin before her eyes bounce back to Parker’s face.

“I didn’t mean to overstep, I had to come to the City anyway for an audition, and I just… I guess I wanted to know what this thing between us was… _is_.”

She’s saying the right words but the panic is stronger, the deja vu is sickening, and Kristina finds she can’t kick her way back to its surface, back to the place where everything was so warm and so promising a mere minute before.  

Silence hangs between them, but she’s not numb anymore, she’s burning, thrown back to two years ago and the cell phone she could never escape, the rough hands that put her in the hospital, and the web of lies she weaved to cover up and choke herself.

“I’m going to go.”

Parker is studying her, and Kristina can see the sheer determination on her face to understand her, to navigate through this. Though her voice is soft, kind, she can hear the disappointment there too as she fails.

“I’m in town until tomorrow night, so if you decide you want to meet up again, just let me know.”

It feels like failure when the pads of those soft fingers leave her skin. She watches Parker shrug on her jacket and head for the door, and she’s alone again. She’s left to drown and to burn because she can’t open her damn mouth and save herself, again.

“I had a really, really great day with you, Krissie.”

Parker is _real_ , and her eyes are impossibly dark, sad and hopeful and uncertain all at once, and Kristina can’t force her mouth to tell her that today’s been the best day she’s had in so long, maybe ever.

Her life spins away from her again as she watches Parker reach for the door, and something inside her breaks, snapping and spilling out into her chest and her head because he’s already taken too much from her and she can’t let him take this too.

“Wait.”

Her voice shakes but she pops to her feet.

“I’m sorry, that was weird, I know... “ She crossing the room in a hurry, and sucking cool air into her aching lungs between her rambling. Parker is real, and this is good, and she can do this.

“I just… I’m really private and sometimes I overthink things. Today was… amazing and I’m sorry.”

She’s standing in front of Parker when she lets go of the door handle, shock jolts through the last of the panic in her chest as the same hand reaches up to brush her hair back from her face.

“Don’t apologize. I should have asked to see you before showing up, I am truly sorry and I promise to do better about respecting your privacy from now on.”

Parker sounds so sincere, and Kristina knows, she can see it written on her face that she doesn’t quite understand it, yet the fact that she’s willing to try anyway makes her warm from the place where fingers rest against her cheek, all the way out.

“I really did have an amazing day.” Is what she manages to squeeze out when she finally catches her breath.

“Me too.” Parker smiles - it reaches all the way to her eyes, and her irises dance like dark fire. Kristina has never wanted to burn so badly in her life.

“I am going to go, my casting is early but I’d love to see you after, so just text me later and let me know if you’re going to be free?”

She nods and her heart plummets because today is over, and it’s her fault, then it soars at Parker’s next words.

“I’d really like to kiss you, so I need you to tell me to stop if that’s not something you want.”

They’re a whisper, and Kristina feels something explode in her chest.

She doesn’t reply, she doesn’t even think, she just leans up and kisses her first.

***

It’s easier and it’s harder from then on. The memory of being with Parker, the time they’d spent getting brunch and then at her apartment becomes her favorite with ease in the two months following. She still shivers when she thinks of Parker’s body pressed against her three hours before her flight, and her heart still swells at the patience she’d shown her after her quiet admission that she’d never been with another woman. She still aches at how utterly easy and _right_ it had been.

“You’re upset, what happened?”

She’s sitting at her desk. The lunch crowd has cleared out and she’s pretty much alone to enjoy her usual call with Parker when it’s just after 9 AM in Los Angeles.

She listens to excuses and attempts to deflect until finally, the truth spills down the line, and she aches for her.

“Amanda showed up at the stupid benefit last night.”

“Parker, I’m sorry. I know you’re not okay but, nothing happened right?”

Kristina aches to be with her, to hold her, and she still feels the sharp claws of guilt sink into her stomach for her senseless questioning all those weeks ago.

“No, it’s fine, she had to leave because of the restraining order.”

Parker sounds tired, and Kristina hurts for her, that a shitty restraining order is all she got after everything that happened to her.

“The press caught it of course, so Marion’s over here doing damage control and I’m just…” She trails off and Kristina hears her blow out a breath. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” And she does. Missing Parker has become as commonplace in her life as the sky being blue.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Parker’s voice is suddenly lighter.

Hope and nerves and anticipation all tickle Kristina’s insides.

“I don’t have any plans, why?”

Her heart is hammering against her rib cage, and she’s still amazed by the effect this woman, just the _idea_ she might get to see her, has.

Parker’s voice comes down the line, her words are slow and full of promises.

“Want to make some?”

***

They do. Kristina’s still half-high, drunk on the last few days of her world just consisting of Parker. Parker who still opens doors for her months after that first time, Parker who talks with her hands and laughs with her whole heart, Parker who is so patient and treats her like she’s something precious. She’s flying and then she’s falling, crashing back down to Earth, and suddenly things aren’t quite so bright, so easy.

Parker is ashen, knuckles white as she clutches the phone.

“How bad is it? Just tell me the truth Marion.”

She grimaces and Kristina’s stomach rolls. She pulls the covers tighter around her naked body, the sun is barely up above the New York skyline, yet the magic of the previous night feels eons ago now.

“The press caught us yesterday. Figures they are interested in me again after the drama at the benefit.”

It’s toneless, and Parker’s usually brilliant eyes are flat, empty, and that scares Kristina more than she thought something so small ever could.

She makes herself scarce, dressing quickly and disappearing into the living room, while Parker’s phone rings, and rings, and rings.

Her fingers shake while she waits for her tea to steep, tapping on her cell, bringing up Twitter.

She doesn’t even have to type her name in the search bar.

A picture of the two of them leaving the restaurant, hands clasped together tight stares back. Licking her suddenly dry lips she scrolls, caught between a strange surprise at how happy they look and a creeping discomfort at the invasion, the violation of seeing those precious, private, moments shared for all to see.

She’s so caught up in the captions, Perez Hilton’s take on _Parker Forsyth bounces back with hot younger woman!!!_ that she doesn’t hear the key in the lock until there are footsteps in the hall.

“Tell me it’s not true.”

She slams her phone on the counter guilty for half a second, then looking at her mother’s red cheeks and blazing eyes, she’s suddenly furious.

“Mom, what the hell are you doing in here?”

Alexis storms into the kitchen like it’s hers, and Kristina’s blood boils and her stomach turns, because Parker is just one room away.

“Tell me you’re not involved in some sort of sordid lesbian scandal with a woman old enough to be your mother, Kristina. Please?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but she doesn’t get the chance. She bites down on her lip and tells herself she’s used to this, she _knows_ that her input isn’t needed or wanted. She’s a placeholder now in this woman’s life, not considered worthy of a life of her own.

“Do you know what this could do to my campaign? Our family are _republicans_ , Kristina.”

“ _You_ are a republican.” She snaps back. Alexis’s eyes flame.

“You were in a relationship, with a boy, for three years.”

It’s a nasty shot and it lands exactly as intended. The air rushes out of her lungs, and all the bruised pieces of her ache, the mere mention of _him_ steals her conviction, her breath.

“I cannot believe…”

Her mother is furious, red-faced, and she’s cut short. Kristina’s stomach drops as a hand slides across the small of her back.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I heard voices and came to check if everything was alright. You must be Kristina’s mother.”

Parker is all cool confidence and slick steel, and Kristina marvels at the fact that she can _feel_ that she’s acting now. She reaches behind her back and grabs the hand there, holding on. Finally, for the first time since the phone rang, she can take a breath.

“Shame on you.” Is the first thing Alexis manages to spit out after what feels like a full minute of wide-eyed sputtering. Kristina is ready to leap to Parker’s defense, but the woman is faster.

“And what exactly do I have to be ashamed of Ms Davis? I care for your daughter, she’s a wonderful young woman and I’m anything but ashamed to be a part of her life.”

Seeing her mother speechless is something Kristina knows she will hold onto for a long time. Like most good things it doesn’t last.

“You’re old enough to be her mother! I know your kind Miss Forsyth, and I know all about you and your dysfunctional lifestyle. Kristina is not like you, and she’s vulnerable.”

When her mother’s eyes turn to her the nuclear explosion is back, brewing in her chest, and this time Kristina knows without a doubt it’s counting down to a detonation that she won’t be able to hold back.

“You’re unwell Kristina. You need help, I see it now. I know you’ve struggled since what happened with Kieffer and I’m sorry we haven’t been there for you more. But I never thought you’d resort to... this.”

All her blood turns to ice and she can taste fire as she sucks in a breath.

“I’m unwell? I’m unwell now, two years later?” She conscious, so conscious of Parker, holding her hand tight while all her secrets dance too close to daylight, but she can’t stop. “Where were you when I got out of the hospital, Mom? Where was the help then? Oh that’s right, it wasn’t convenient for your fucking campaign to have a daughter who wasn’t perfect.”

She’s shaking and words are pouring out, and she doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore. It’s bubbling up from her chest, thick as tar and black as ink, and she doesn’t stop until Parker’s other hand is on her hip and she’s being pulled back against her body, breathing hard, tears wet on her cheeks.

“I think you need to leave now.”

Parker’s voice is quiet in the stillness of the room. The shock on her mother’s face morphs into a sneer.

It shouldn’t hurt but it does.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” Is all she manages to force past her clenched jaw, and thankfully, Alexis turns to leave.

***

The phone’s ringing again, _Dad_ flashing across the screen for the third time that night, but Kristina lets it ring. She convinced by now that things with Parker are ruined, tainted by the past like everything she touches tends to be.

She lets out a breath when the buzzing stops, only to suck in another when it starts up again, trying not to think about how fucked up everything is.

Her fingers shake while she pours herself a drink, and she knows, recognizes from experience, that she’s teetering.

_Parker was good_ , her brain reminds her unhelpfully, _too good_. After her mother left she never pried, staying until she calmed down, accepting her apologies and promising things would be okay. That was three days ago and she’s heard nothing since, and Kristina knows enough by now to know what that means.

Her favorite wine is bitter in her mouth but she drinks it anyway, turning back to her screen and pulling up one of her smaller portfolios.

Calculated risk, that’s why she loves being a broker and loathes falling in love. She can predict the market but she never predicted Parker changing her mind.

She’s researching share values the first time the doorbell rings, and she ignores it. She’s got the deadbolt on in case her Mother decides to gratuitously use the key she’d insisted she needed _for emergencies_ again, content that no one can invade what little sanctum she has left here.

Her fingers move fast over the keyboard, she’s typing notes for when the market opens in the morning, when a voice comes muffled through her door.

She pauses.

“Krissie?”

Her heart stutters and she almost knocks her wine off the coffee table in her haste to get to the door. She’s breathless when she pulls it open, still cautious, yet horribly hopeful.

“Hey.” Worry is creasing the corners of Parker’s eyes. “I’m so sorry for just coming up, I rang but you didn’t answer and someone let me into the lobby. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Kristina’s heart is beating in her throat, her eyes flip down to the twin coffees clutched in the woman’s hands.

“I was going to bring you flowers, but I mean, they’re so cliche and not really useful, so I thought coffee was more practical. But it’s almost ten, and it’s probably a terrible time to be drinking coffee.”

Parker rambles when she’s nervous, and Kristina absolutely shouldn’t find it as adorable as she does.

The older woman runs adjusts her grip on the coffee, and somewhere between the nervous anticipation, Kristina can’t help but think she’s beautiful, barefaced and a little pale from what she guesses has been a few rough nights.

“I know I disappeared, and I’m so sorry, honey. Marion’s been calling none stop and there’s been so many decisions and…” She stops herself and changes track. “None of that matters. I missed you so much and I’m so out of practice with being in a… communicating with someone. I never meant to just disappear on you.”

Dark eyes watch her, shy and heavy with apology.

Kristina takes the coffee when it’s offered to her and uses her other hand to pull Parker closer, leaning up to kiss her in a move that feels so brilliantly brave, and right.

***

It baffles her how quickly the world rights itself with Parker’s return. Gentle fingers play with the ends of her hair and Kristina shifts to press closer to her where they’re sandwiched on the couch.

“Oh, no way.”

The commercial break ends and Parker laughs, shaking against her as the opening credits of Catfish begin on the screen.

“Remember when you were convinced I was catfishing you?”

Kristina nudges her in faux annoyance, rolling her eyes.

“I was wrong, we’ve been over this.”

Parker’s eyes dance in the blue light of the television.

“You were so in denial.”

“Was not.” _She absolutely was._

Apparently totally disinterested in the show, Parker rolls to onto her side to face her, and Kristina’s heart picks up as an arm slides around her waist.

“The lies you tell yourself Miss Davis. Correct me if I’m wrong but weren’t your exact words something like, there’s no way Parker Forsyth would be on Tinder, she’s famous and _fucking hot_.”

Kristina fights valiantly against the heat she can feel creeping up her neck at the memory.

“Language.” She chides playfully, tugging on Parker’s shirt until their lips are pressed together in a kiss that evolves into something hot and desperate with surprising speed. It’s jarring when Parker pulls back.

“I’m so sorry about the last few days, Krissie. All of it. I never meant to run out on you, and I certainly never meant to subject you to all this publicity and prying. I should have known to be more careful.”

The apology is so sincere, and Kristina aches for the guilt written all over Parker’s perfect face.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you couldn’t have known.”

She’s considering leaning back in to kiss her again, but something still lingering in familiar dark eyes holds her back.

“Kristina, the press hasn’t been kind to me. You know that.”

She grimaces at the reminder of that day so long ago now, before Parker was her… before she was anything more than Tinder Parker, before she was real.

“I was such an ass”, she admits.

“You were scared,” Parker corrects, “and you weren’t wrong. Living through that, through the headlines and all the commentary on my life from people who had never even met me, reading that they thought I deserved it because of my lifestyle choices, or that I was lying or had asked for it, it broke a part of me.”

Parker’s voice is impossibly quiet against the backdrop of the TV, and something in Kristina’s chest swells, incredibly aware that this is a pivotal moment and horribly anxious because Parker is trusting her, sharing with her, and she knows she’s nowhere near ready to look at her own demons, let alone talk about them.

Soft fingers rake across her cheek, and the effort she puts into keeping her face from displaying all the panic that’s flooding into her chest must be wasted because Parker pulls her just a little closer, holds her tighter, and it feels like she’s anchored, steady, safe.

“I want to protect you from ever feeling like that, Krissie, and that’s what me and Marion have spent three days trying to figure out how to do, but the truth is, I’m not sure I can. My being in the public eye has already caused issues for you with your family, and it’s only going to get worse.”

The horrible sensation of goodbye and ending crashes over Kristina, and she won’t, she can’t give up on this woman who has somehow slipped through all her cracks and filled in all her missing pieces and become _everything_ to her this past year.

“Parker, I don’t care. I know this is a part of your life, and I wish I could change it for you too, but I can’t. All we can do is figure it out, together.”

It’s the closest thing to permanence she has ever implied, and it’s huge and it’s scary to put herself out there like that. Then Parker speaks again and she’s suddenly vindicated.

“I’m falling in love with you. This is my life, and I love that you’re so willing to try, but you have to know what you’re signing up for.”

Kristina just kisses her because _she knows_. She saw the headlines, the pictures of Parker, bruised and bloody, the pictures of them taken without their permission just days earlier, but none of it matters.

“I’m falling in love with you too.”

She whispers it like a secret against soft lips, and Parker kisses her until her head spins and for the first time in years, the strange sensation of total peace, and home finds her.

“Whatever happened in the past, you won’t scare me away.”

She’s almost asleep, her head on Parker’s chest when the words come quiet against her ear.

“You don’t ever have to tell me, but remember that if you ever want to, you can.” She pauses and Kristina can hear her suck in a breath. She closes her eyes tight and clings onto the incredible woman she somehow stumbled across, to the healing she knows has happened since, and for the first time, she doesn’t panic at the mention of her past.

“Just know that you don’t have to carry it alone.”

***

It’s almost three weeks to the day later when she pours it all out. She’s on her usual evening call with Parker, listening as the woman makes dinner, when it bubbles to the surface. The line goes quiet when she brings it up, and she recounts it all to the steady rhythm of Parker’s breaths - how he chose her, manipulated her, broke her.

She doesn’t cry, and it almost feels like she’s telling a story. Those bruises feel healed, not as tender as they’d been before, and she counts that as progress.

“Kristina, you’re amazing. You survived, honey. Thank you for trusting me.”, is all Parker says when it’s done.

There’s no pity, and Kristina doesn’t feel handled. When she lays down in bed, talking softly to the woman she’s completely in love with, she feels lighter for finally losing the fight to keep it all in.

***

“So, I’m just going to go ahead and get right to it. You’re dating again. She’s younger and she’s, well, she’s gorgeous. Can you tell us about her?”

Kristina leans forward on her sofa, eyes fixed on the screen, and it feels absolutely surreal.

The Parker on her screen, _her Parker_ , laughs that soft laugh Kristina knows means she’s a little nervous, as she re-crosses her legs and looks at Ellen.

“You caught me.” She holds up her hands and the audience chuckles, and just the sight of her, the sound of her voice even hundreds of miles away, it warms Kristina down to her bones.

“So, we actually met on Tinder.”

The crowd goes wild and Ellen throws her head back and laughs until she’s wiping tears from her eyes.

“Parker Forsyth on Tinder, no way.”

Parker nods, trying to speak twice, before the rambunctious audience finally settles enough for her to be heard.

“That’s what she said.”

Even Kristina laughs at that, too.

“But yes,”, Parker continues, “She’s beautiful inside and out. She’s the strongest person I know, and I feel very lucky to have met her.”

The audience and Ellen _aww_ in unison, and Kristina flushes red, her heart aching with love and how much she misses the woman on her screen.

“Well Parker, I for one am thrilled for you, you deserve it. And is she watching? Is there anything you want to say to her before we go to commercial?” Ellen sits back in her seat and the camera zooms in on Parker, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed as she tells Ellen, “I do believe she’s watching.”

Kristina’s heart leaps into her throat, and thunders in her ears as dark eyes turn to the camera.

“Krissie, honey, I love you.”

The audience cheers, Ellen stands to hug Parker, and the show cuts to a commercial.

***

Another Friday meeting is done and Kristina is striding back towards her desk, satisfaction making her feel light, her name shining at the top of the leaderboard again. She’s debating making another cup of coffee before she calls Parker on her lunch break when her phone buzzes in her hand, her girlfriend’s name on the screen.

“Hey, baby.”

She drops down into her desk chair, rocking lightly, as she shuffles some papers, cradling the phone to her ear.

“Kristina, hi…”

Parker sounds breathless and the distant toll of alarm bells threatens to shatter all her contentment.

“Is something wrong?” She sits forward in her seat without thinking.

“No, no, everything’s fine. Listen, I sent you a surprise to the office but the courier can’t find your floor. Could you run down to the lobby and grab it, sweetheart?”

She sounds flustered, and Kristina jumps to her feet, already heading for the elevator.

“Of course, thank you baby, you know you didn’t have to get me anything.”

She punches the button and waits.

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you.”

Kristina laughs softly, cradling the phone to her, wishing it was the other woman, because this relationship is just so good, and so right, that some days she still can’t believe this is her life now.

“I’m definitely surprised. I miss you.”

She starts her descent, and though she’s eager to see what Parker sent for her, she’s more eager to soak up the sound of her voice, her presence, to try to soothe some of the perpetual ache that comes with constantly missing her.

“You’re still coming on the 15th right?” She asks as she steps out into the lobby, scanning the space for a Fedex shirt.

“I’ll be there on the 15th for sure.” Parker sounds breathless, and Kristina’s about to ask if she’s okay when she speaks again, “Turn around, honey.”

There isn’t enough time to process the strangeness of the request before she’s complied and her eyes fall on her girlfriend standing right there in the PERKs lobby, not hundreds of miles away in L.A, her phone to her ear and that smile that Kristina absolutely loves on her face.

Tears prick the back of her eyes and she’s shocked, frozen for a long few seconds before she runs to her.

“You’re here.”

She says it into the side of Parker’s neck, already hugging her tight, her feet almost off the ground as she tugs her closer, closer.

Parker kisses her and sets her back on her feet, and clinging to the lapels of her jacket Kristina comes back down to Earth.

“Okay, not that I’m not thrilled but what are you doing here?”

Parker licks her lips, a smile breaking across her face that reminds Kristina of the rising sun as she leads her out of the lobby.

“I didn't want to get your hopes up but I just finished the last test read for a daytime show, and found out I got the part.”

Kristina knows how much Parker has wanted a new project and she’s thrilled for her, but she still feels like she’s missed a step.

“That’s so amazing, congratulations!” She kisses her, and Parker must taste the question on her lips, because she answers before she can even ask.

“The show shoots about forty minutes away from here. I wasn’t sure it would work out, but it has and.. I’m coming home. To New York, for good.”

The information washes over her like a wave, passing by too fast, and Kristina has to repeat it, to grasp it and digest it, and when she does the world explodes into beautiful color.

She launches forward and kisses her on the crowded sidewalk, right outside PERKs.

The pictures of that kiss are splashed all over Twitter before they even fall into bed that night. Neither of them care.


End file.
